


The Face of a Secret - Epilogue

by SooperChicken



Series: Harry Potter: The Face of a Secret [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Aurors, Best Friends, Canon Timeline, Canon Universe, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Childhood Friends, Dark, Death, F/M, Fantasy, First War with Voldemort, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Heartbreak, Hippogriffs, Hogwarts, Love, Magic, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Minor Original Character(s), Non-canonical elements, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Pain, Post-First War with Voldemort, Post-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Reader-Insert, Violence, Visions, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23143189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SooperChicken/pseuds/SooperChicken
Summary: The aftermath of The Face of a Secret - Part One.DISCLAIMER: All rights go to J.K Rowling, and the only things I claim as my own are the obvious original characters and the non-canonical plot. Everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, including the lines I have added literatim from Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows: The Prince’s Tale.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s), Severus Snape/Reader, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Reader
Series: Harry Potter: The Face of a Secret [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612900
Comments: 32
Kudos: 115





	The Face of a Secret - Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> So, now that my heart has been smashed into lots of tiny pieces ...
> 
> Edit: The beautiful piece of music I was listening to as I wrote this is called 'Farewell' by Echo River. I've pasted the links to it below in case you wanted to have a listen, but if it's not your thing or you don't feel that it works the same way for you as it did for me, don't worry! Feel free to choose your own song(s) if you like a bit of background music while you read. ❤️
> 
> YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90sO2kUW9Iw  
> Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/40f4bFrEnG7TBLD7FFRqQj?si=1h_STdErTp6BzhH0-Vnilw

“I thought … you were going … to keep her … safe,”

“She and James put their faith in the wrong person. Rather like you, Severus. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?”

Dumbledore watched as Severus struggled with the reality that Lily Potter was dead. Murdered, at the hands of Lord Voldemort. He sat, hunched over in a chair as though in physical pain, with tears streaming unrestrained down his face. Dumbledore, too, was struggling with his emotions – a first for him in a very long time – but he would not let it show. It was a hard time for everyone.

“Her boy survives,” said Dumbledore. He had not expected Severus to react to the comment at all, but the dismissive flick of his head was proof enough of how small an impact that fact had on the man. “Her son lives,” repeated the old headmaster. “He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans’ eyes, I am sure?”

“DON’T!” shouted Severus. The outcry was a mixture of anger and desperation. “Gone … Dead …”

Dumbledore restrained himself from telling Severus the whole truth of that terrible night. “Is this remorse, Severus?”

“I wish … I wish _I_ were dead …”

Dumbledore felt this was the truth of the matter. Perhaps, then, the focus should be Lily for a time, and only her. Severus would not be able to take the _other_ news, if this was how he was now. “And what use would that be to anyone?” he said coldly. “If …”

Both men looked up as there came a knock on the door to Dumbledore’s office. The headmaster glanced briefly at Severus before calling the visitors in. Dumbledore was unsurprised to see Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold enter the room, flanked by her advisor, Cornelius Fudge, and also Bartemius Crouch Sr (the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement).

“Good evening, Minister,” said Dumbledore politely, but grimly. “I suppose you must be here for …?”

“Yes, Professor Dumbledore,” said Bagnold, as equally polite. She wore a very somber expression and, although he would not have cared if she did, Severus was glad she was too focused on her purpose to even look at him. Crouch, however, did not spare him the look of loathing he reserved for Death Eaters, whether current or renounced.

Despite Dumbledore’s address of the Minister for Magic, it was actually Crouch who was there to do the ‘work’ that evening. The headmaster suspected that the Minister and her advisor were actually only there to supervise and be among the first to know the truth of what recently occurred at Godric’s Hollow. Dumbledore moved to an ornate cabinet in his office which held the Pensieve. The magical bowl was already prepared for Crouch’s investigations, because Dumbledore himself had viewed its contents shortly before Severus’ arrival. He had not, however, known how to break the news of what the Pensieve showed him before now.

Crouch approached the Pensieve when Dumbledore stepped aside, and immediately put his head into the bowl. There he remained, bent low over the artefact while he watched the memory swirling within. Everyone watched in anticipation, especially Severus, who did not know why any of these people were there. A few minutes passed, and Crouch raised his head from the Pensieve. When he turned, they all saw how his face had become ashen and how his moustachioed top lip trembled.

“Well, Barty? What did you see?” asked Bagnold.

“The inquiry is closed,” he said shortly. “Thank you for your cooperation, Professor Dumbledore,”

“Wait, closed?” repeated Fudge. “Just like that?”

“That is correct,” said Crouch resolutely. “(F/N) Castor’s presence in Godric’s Hollow will no longer be treated with suspicion,”

“Oh … oh, I see …” said Fudge. “Well, that _is_ a relief!”

Crouch merely looked at the man before stepping around him and heading for the door. He looked very troubled, Dumbledore noticed, and Fudge’s reaction certainly hadn’t been the ‘correct’ one. Bagnold followed suit, but was very confused. “But what _happened,_ Barty?”

Crouch stopped at the door, with his hand resting on the handle. He shook his head in tiny, repetitive movements, as though he couldn’t understand what he’d seen. At length, he said, “The poor girl was protecting them …”

With that, he left. Bagnold turned and nodded to Dumbledore before leaving herself, and Fudge hurried after them. When the door clicked shut, and they were sure everyone was gone, Severus looked at Dumbledore and asked, “Why were they investigating (F/N)?”

The fact that Dumbledore could not look Severus in the face was extremely unsettling to him. Dumbledore shook his head, seemingly unable to find the words to answer his question. How could he tell him, without simply blurting the thing that had been on his mind since that terrible night? The Potters’ deaths had been bad enough, but to know something had happened to their closest friend, too …

“I think it is perhaps best if you see for yourself, Severus. Diplomacy may be a quality a headmaster requires, but even I could not begin to explain this to you,”

Dumbledore gestured to the Pensieve once more, and Severus got out of his chair, walking on weak, shaky legs to the cabinet. What was he about to see? He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know, but something told him he _had_ to … Severus leaned over the bowl and peered deeply into its shifting depths. A scene formed around him, and he was back at the house in Godric’s Hollow. It was not as it had been when he went to check on Lily, but whole and homely, rather than a smouldering ruin. There, on the sofa, were the Potters. They were watching television. And, in the armchair next to them, sat (F/N). What was she doing there? Severus cast his mind back to when he begged her to go into hiding. This was _not_ what he meant …

Lily stood and picked up her baby, who had fallen asleep between his parents. (F/N) stood with her, and offered to make a bottle for the child. Severus watched as Lily went upstairs, and as (F/N) went to the kitchen, and then as the night’s horrors unfurled anew. James Potter was felled almost immediately as the Dark Lord made his entrance, but (F/N) was upon him in a second, like a lioness protecting her pride. Severus had never imagined that (F/N) could fight like this, even knowing her power as well as he did. He noted with grim satisfaction the fleeting look of shock on Lord Voldemort’s twisted, evil face. Had (F/N) not been so caught up in emotion, she would have been his exact equal – and Severus could see how that worried him, however momentarily.

Severus wished he could un-see what came next. (F/N), distraught over James’ death, struggled to cope with the emotions it caused. Severus had seen this before … in their fourth year at Hogwarts. Now, though, it was a matter of life and death … and it was over in the blink of an eye. (F/N) had not hesitated, but the pain she was in was of a physical nature, and Voldemort exploited this without a second thought. He slit her throat, and although the act made Severus want to scream in so many different emotions of his own, the thing that made him cry for (F/N) was seeing her just standing there … unsure of what just happened … totally stunned …

And then she raised a hand to her neck, touching the warm, unnatural wetness there. She looked at the blood, then staggered back, hitting the wall and sliding to the floor. Severus, although only watching a memory, rushed to her side and tried desperately to heal her, to no avail. The Dark Lord stood over her, taunting her … Severus looked up with (F/N) into the man’s thrice-cursed face …

_“… I find you quite tragic,”_ said Voldemort. _“To think, you fought so hard and loved so fiercely, but in the end it was all for nought,”_

He talked about the Potters, and (F/N)’s parents and aunt. He spoke of Black, who had recently left (F/N) – the fool, Severus thought. But then, the words that crushed his soul: _“And, of course, you loved Severus Snape, but it was not **you**_ _he begged me to save … but your darling friend, upstairs,”_

Severus could not think. He could not feel. He could not breathe. His head turned of its own accord and he looked at (F/N), whose eyes betrayed her pain.

_“Just as I, (F/N), you were never loved. People may have spoken the words, but in the end they all abandoned you for someone or something else. Someone who is loved is not abandoned by those they care for, surely?”_

With that, Voldemort ghosted away upstairs. Severus wanted to run after him, to stop him … but he didn’t want to see what happened to Lily. He’d already seen the aftermath. But then, he supposed, poor (F/N) wouldn’t have known what happened in the end, because there she sat, back against the wall, with blood covering the neck of her jumper. Severus couldn’t stand it, seeing the light fading from her once-bright eyes, as equally beautiful as Lily’s. And her last thoughts … were that she was never loved ...

Severus ejected himself from the memory with a gasp. He was shaking, but no longer crying. He was numb; there seemed to be nothing left in the world. At the news of Lily’s death, Severus’ life was plunged into eternal night. It was not until now, having learned of (F/N)’s death too, that he realised the night still had colour – deep, dark colour, but colour nevertheless … and that, too, was gone. Like paint washed from a canvas, his world had not only become dark, but also grey. Tasteless and bleak. A void.

Dumbledore watched him warily from where he stood a few feet away. He, of course, had already seen the memory for himself, in all its horror. Lily and (F/N) were beloved by all at Hogwarts, and both had suffered terribly at the ends of their young lives. Lily, dying for her son, but probably knowing that Voldemort would attack him anyway; (F/N), dying with the thought of never having been loved, although she herself had loved so ferociously her entire life. A tear pricked sharply in Dumbledore’s eye, and he blinked it away fiercely. Severus simply stared at a spot on the floor with spiritless eyes.

Neither man said a word. It was as if sound no longer existed, for even the wind outside the tower had died. Severus thought he was going to be sick, or faint. With luck, he thought, he would simply die himself … That sentiment, held with vicelike certainty after wishing for it upon learning of Lily’s death, was heightened hundredfold.

“If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear,” said Dumbledore into the heavy silence.

Severus peered at him through the agonising fog that had begun to choke him. What was he saying? Why only mention Lily? Did he believe the Dark Lord’s words, that Severus had never loved (F/N)? If so, that simply wasn’t fair. He _did_ love (F/N), with all his being, in fact. Her death made him sick …

“You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son,”

“He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone –,”

“– the Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does,” said Dumbledore.

Severus slowly regained control of himself. “Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear … especially Potter’s son … I want your word!”

“My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you? If you insist,”

There was another pregnant pause. “… What can be done for (F/N)?” asked Severus quietly. “She didn’t have children, so I cannot honour her memory in the same way …”

Dumbledore already had the answer to that. “You never saw her with Harry, but as his godmother she doted on him so. She was a second mother to the boy. I would say that protecting Harry is as good a way of honouring (F/N) as it is of honouring Lily,”

Severus looked uncertain. To him, it seemed somehow … weak, to offer the same apology to (F/N) as he was offering to Lily. Dumbledore noticed his hesitation.

“For (F/N) specifically, Severus, the only way to truly honour her is to _live._ She fought so hard, and died so terribly, so that other people could live. It would be a disgrace to forfeit her sacrifices, truly,”

Severus thought about it, before deciding that Dumbledore was right. (F/N) had given so much, and was rewarded with so little, in the end. The least he could do was carry on, and work to avenge her where he could …

Would it be enough, though? Severus wasn’t sure, but it was the best he had.

“I also think you should attend the funerals, Severus, painful though they may be. It could be the only chance you get to say goodbye,”

Severus’ chest squeezed uncomfortably, but again, Dumbledore was right. “Very well,” he said. “When …?”

“Next Friday in Godric’s Hollow, and next Saturday in Spindlewood Common. Have you ever been?” said Dumbledore. Severus shook his head, and the headmaster nodded. “A beautiful little village. Very fitting,”

So it was that, a week later, Severus found himself at two funerals. At Lily’s (he very staunchly ignored the fact that this was also Potter’s funeral), he remained at the very back of the little church, and kept well away from the other mourners when they stood around in the churchyard. He saw Lily’s sister and, presumably, brother-in-law, standing towards the front. When at last everyone had moved on for the wake, Severus floated a double samara to the new grave, before very discreetly taking his own leave …

The next day was a very different affair. While there were many of the people present for (F/N)’s funeral as there had been for the Potters’, Severus did not actually feel out-of-place, and felt no need to stand on the sideline. Spindlewood Common was indeed beautiful, and the little church sitting on the outskirts was eerily so. (F/N) was to be buried next to her family, overlooking the sprawling moors beyond. It was a very still day, but while the village was beautiful, the colours had faded with the progressing autumn, so the ground was grey and brown, and the sky above was grey and cloudy. The trees had nearly all lost their leaves, and the occasional spot of rain could be felt pattering onto the mourners. A strip of oddly orange sky could be seen beneath the clouds, and above the distant horizon of the dark moors.

Inside the church, Severus glanced at the people around him. Dumbledore sat nearest to him, and looked as grim and somber as ever. McGonagall sat to his right, and continuously dabbed her eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief. Several other teachers were there, too: Slughorn, looking utterly forlorn, as he had at Lily’s funeral; Flitwick and Sprout, ashen-faced and silent in their grief; Kettleburn, looking as though he had just stopped crying but could start again at any time; and, perhaps most surprisingly, Moran, who was rather pinker in the cheeks than seemed natural for him, and his icy blue eyes were bright with emotion. Hagrid was there too, bawling his eyes out and sobbing uncontrollably.

Then there were the others. Severus had never met him before, nor even seen him, but (F/N)’s childhood friend, Eddie, was sitting in the front pew with tears streaming down his face. A handsome, black-haired woman sat beside him, rubbing his back as he cried. Severus had overheard him telling another funeral-goer that he wished, more than anything, he had returned to England when he received (F/N)’s final letter to him - he had been completing the remainder of his academy training in Austria when it reached him.

Severus recognised Haydn Blythe and Edith Bradshaw, huddled closely together and crying for their lost friends. They, too, had been at Lily and James’ funeral. There was Davey Gudgeon and Yalina Khan; Sylvie Winstanley, Evelyn Ayrton, Julie Glass and Cathy Huxley … Robert Saint, Isaac Furnival, and Faizan Khan … Remus Lupin sat almost by himself, looking utterly wretched. Severus supposed even _he_ could feel sorry for him, having lost every friend he had. He also overheard how Lupin had been (F/N)’s Secret Keeper … The anguish he looked to be in suddenly made all the sense in the world. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, and he stared into space, his cheeks stained with tears.

There were several others in attendance with varying degrees of familiarity to Severus, and he knew he should not have been surprised at the turnout, but it made him realise – to his despair – just how well-loved (F/N) Castor really was. If only she’d known …

The service was a very poignant, dignified one, and many people burst into fresh tears. Severus tried very, very hard not to cry again, but his eyes stung with tears as he looked at (F/N)’s casket, resting at the very front of the church. None of this was natural … all of it so unnecessary. These deaths should never have happened …

He was whipped back to reality as a man walked up the aisle, taking his place at the pulpit instead. He was tall and handsome, with dark red hair and glittering, dark blue eyes. Severus had seen him before, but those eyes no longer shone with mischief. Now, it was deepest pain. What Severus didn’t understand, though, was …

“There are no words to describe the pain of losing a child …” said the man. “There are also no words to describe the gratitude I feel, to see all the people who have gathered here today – each one of you friends and allies of (F/N) – because she was cared for by so many. I am glad … that she was surrounded by good people throughout her young life … to guide her where we could not … and know her as I, at least, was unable …”

His speech stopped short as tears cascaded down his face. He apologised to the congregation at large and stepped down from the pulpit as a woman – _the_ woman from (F/N)’s old photograph – rushed up from somewhere and pulled the man into a hug. She, too, was crying, and as the man pressed his forehead to the woman’s, everything suddenly clicked into place …

(F/N)’s parents were not dead, Severus realised. For here they were, standing before them, and very much alive. It made no sense, though … How could (F/N) have been unaware that her parents were alive, and why was she therefore raised by her ‘aunt’? Severus, still too grief-stricken himself for deep thought, tucked those questions away for later.

The service concluded much too soon. Severus, and indeed (F/N)’s other friends and family, did not want this to be the end. They were not ready to let go, just as they were not ready to let the Potters go. (F/N)’s father, Magnus, was one of her pallbearers. With him walked Haydn, Eddie, Remus, Edith and … Moran. Severus wondered at that, but remembered that (F/N) had been one of his favourite students, and most of the others at her funeral were so upset they could hardly bring themselves to stand, let alone carry (F/N) to her grave. He knew _he_ wouldn’t have been able to do it …

Outside, a cold wind had picked up, rushing in off the moors. It was only three o’clock, but the day appeared to be dying. Severus watched in agony as the casket was lowered into the ground, and as (F/N) was laid to rest. He could barely hear a thing over his grief, which smothered him like a pernicious haze, but he did catch the usual ‘ashes to ashes’ line … He could hardly take any more.

When it was all over, and everyone had said their goodbyes, placed flowers inside the grave or on the headstone, those who would be staying for the wake walked slowly back to the village pub. Severus caught Lupin’s eye, but both looked away as soon as acknowledgement was made. No one seemed to know what to say to anyone else, and no one questioned the presence of the ink-black hippogriff now lying with his head resting on (F/N)’s headstone. Severus looked at Aeolus and pitied the creature; if hippogriffs could cry, this one surely was. Somewhere nearby, an owl, out in the daytime, gave a low, mournful hoot. He couldn’t see him, but Severus was sure it was Cicero, grieving the loss of his friend of many years.

Numb and empty, Severus waited once more until everyone had left before approaching (F/N) … Only now, he felt the _real_ (F/N) was the one who existed in his memories. He conjured hyacinths for her, purple like the irises given by McGonagall, and then left before the good memories could become flooded with sorrow. Unbeknown to him, Dumbledore watched from afar. At his side stood Magnus Castor.

“What will you do now, Magnus?” asked Dumbledore quietly.

“Whatever I can, to make sure this isn’t permanent …”

“What do you mean?”

“There are things that even our world doesn’t yet understand, Professor. Magics too mysterious to comprehend, and power that frightens people to this day …” said Magnus quietly. “You can understand that, surely?”

“I can,” said Dumbledore. “If we can assist you in any way, you have only to ask,”

“… Thank you, sir,”

The men shook hands before parting ways. Severus was long gone from the churchyard, but Dumbledore would see him again much sooner than any of his colleagues expected. Now, as the countryside grew quiet and the air became still once more, the old headmaster thought it seemed as though the whole world had paused for breath …

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking with me so long! Please stay tuned for Part Two, which is now in the works! ❤️


End file.
